


Amaranthine

by AwakeMySoul, jarofhearts



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwakeMySoul/pseuds/AwakeMySoul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/jarofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is used to a whole lot. After all, seeing as he’s living alone with his mother after his father was killed on a hunt that went wrong, and how he’s been taught from a young age to fight ghosts, demons and all the other things that go bump in the night.<br/>But when a heavily injured young man crashes into their home in the middle of the night who his mother seems to know but Thomas has never seen before, when it turns out that he is an angel on the run from a bunch of demons, it seems that even Thomas’ world can still be shaken.</p>
<p>Written for the <a href="http://newmasbigbang.tumblr.com/">newmasbigbang</a> 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amaranthine

  


Art by: [artisticallyreadyandenthused](http://artisticallyreadyandenthused.tumblr.com/)  


**  
_Present_   
**

The first thing that wormed itself through the depths of unconsciousness was the burning raw feeling coming from Thomas’ wrists, a throbbing pain that spread down into the joints of his shoulders and spine. He couldn’t seem to form a clear thought, everything inside his head was pulsing and his vision was going vertigo, confusing top and bottom, left and right.  
  
He tried to force his mind through its semi-conscious state back to actual alertness. The next thing that came back to him was the memory of finally finding the Moroi he’d been looking for, cornering her, and -  
  
A painfully familiar face appearing in front of him, barely a flicker, really, but it had been enough. He’d pulled back and his hesitation had earned him a hard blow to the head. Then -  
  
Then there was nothing.  
  
Finally the rest of Thomas’ body jolted awake, promptly protesting in loud glaring bursts of pain. A groan bubbled from his throat as his feet searched for some kind of purchase, fighting to keep his weight off his bound wrists and the rope tying him to the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse he had followed the Moroi to. But his struggles were in vain, because his toes hardly touched the ground, and the more he tried to find a stable position, the more the ropes dug into his sore skin when he slipped.  
  
“You’re awake.”  
  
A soft voice made him still, staying silent to focus all his senses on whoever - whatever - was here with him. Thomas held his breath for a moment and could hear slow, quiet steps approaching him. He glanced to the side and saw a slim figured, small woman with dark hair, exotic eyes and long, shining black hair.  
  
She watched him curiously, slowly coming closer.  
  
“That was trespassing, you know? Not exactly polite.”  
  
Still fighting against his own body's weight, Thomas narrowed his eyes as the woman came closer, and it became painfully obvious that the flicker of that familiar face had been nothing but an illusion. She was dark where Newt was pale, and harsh where he was gentle around the edges. So it couldn't have been a trick of his own mind, he figured. Somehow the woman must have gotten into his head, digging up well hidden secrets and using them against him in the right moment.  
  
Thomas racked his brain about whether this was something Moroi could do, to change forms or appearances, or to cast illusions. It must be, even though right in that moment he couldn’t remember.  
  
"Hitting people unconscious and tying them to a ceiling isn't exactly polite, either," Thomas snapped back, trying to ignore the increasing pain in his arms.  
  
“You can turn it whichever way you want - your offense came first,” the Moroi said in return, but her gaze was already running hungrily over Thomas. She took a step closer, both hands raised slightly as though wanting to touch, and for a moment there was a curious expression on her face. “There’s something… something about you, and I can’t put my finger on it. You’re… _glowing_ , it’s delicious. Want to tell me what that’s all about?”  
  
Actually, no, Thomas had no idea what that was all about. He just scowled at the woman and followed the motions of her hands with his gaze, almost failing to hide a wince when they came too close.  
  
“Sorry, you might want to get your eyes checked,” he answered flatly. “I’m just one ordinary, boring human being.”  
  
“No, you’re not,” she said immediately, without a moment’s hesitation. Her hands came up to cup his face, ignoring the way he tensed entirely, and she breathed in deeply. “I’ve seen so many ordinary, boring human beings, and you’re _not_.”  
  
There was so much conviction in her voice, so much hunger and - _wonder_ , that a flicker of irrational doubt flared up inside Thomas. Somehow he wasn’t so sure anymore if the Moroi was only trying to unsettle him.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Lamiah, _what are you doing_?!”  
  
It was a new voice that suddenly rang through the warehouse, another female, and the one in front of Thomas - Lamiah, if he had heard that right - immediately let go of him and took a step back.  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean, what am I doing?”  
  
Thomas turned his head immediately, his eyes focusing on the new arrival, a tall woman with striking blue eyes and blond hair. Something about the way she carried herself made Thomas suspect that she was old, and it made him tense immediately, his body preparing for whatever was to come.  
  
It wasn’t what he expected.  
  
“Leave him, we have to go,” the blond woman - Moroi too, Thomas was rather sure - said, and there was urgency to her voice that spoke of nervous tension. The glance she threw Thomas only added to the fact that the situation felt slightly off all of a sudden.  
  
“What?”  
  
Lamiah was staring at the other woman more than reluctantly, and then both she and Thomas winced when the blond woman hissed, “ _Don’t argue with me!_ ”  
  
Thomas watched Lamiah hesitate, an angry expression mixed with bewilderment spreading on her face.  
  
“Are you crazy? Have you even looked at him? He’s - there’s a _spark_ in him.”  
  
“And that doesn’t ring any bells?” the blond snapped back, but it was still, Thomas thought, fuelled by nervousness more than anything else. Her eyes went to Thomas again, and for a moment it looked like she was actually showing him her teeth before she grabbed Lamiah’s hand and pulled her away. “He’s the one with the angel. Come on.”  
  
Thomas could only watch, somewhat bewildered, as Lamiah’s eyes widened with shock and a soft ‘oh’ escaped her lips, and she finally followed the other Moroi hastily, the door falling shut behind them.  
  
Silence settled over the warehouse, and it became clear to Thomas very quickly that they weren’t coming back. Good news, on one hand. On the other…  
  
Thomas sighed quietly to himself and let his gaze trail up his hurting arms, his chafing wrists, where he was bound now and had to figure out how to get down from there on his own.  
  
And he wondered how in the world he ended up in situations like this.

  


***

****

**_Five years ago_  
**

The illuminated digits on the clock told him it was 2:43 in the morning. Even through his sleep-clouded mind, Thomas could feel his heart racing from the loud crash that had woken him. For a moment he didn’t understand what was happening before he heard another crash coming from the hallway. Adrenaline shot through his whole system and forced him to sit upright in his bed, instantly alert and ready like he had been trained to be.  
  
His hand automatically reached underneath his pillow for the gun he always stored away there. The heavy, familiar weight felt reassuring in his palm as he carefully made his way towards the door of his bedroom, naked feet moving silently over the cool floor.  
  
If something had managed to invade the apartment and break the wards, it must be unusually powerful, and that meant he had to be extra careful.  
  
Thomas managed to open the door almost silently, wincing when it creaked softly. He swiftly crossed the short hallway and could see light coming from underneath the living room door. His heart started to pound furiously as he heard another loud noise through the wall, furniture dragging along the floor, and he tried to swallow down the rising fear.  
  
He couldn’t lose her.  
  
So when he threw himself through the door, gun ready to shoot whatever was threatening his mother, he was in no way prepared for the scene that was unfolding before him.  
  
There was a boy - a young man - in his mother’s arms, bare-chested and bloody, streaks of red down his back, and he looked like he had just lost consciousness. The look on his mother’s face was a mix of stunned, highly alarmed and near overwhelmed, almost… scared.  
  
“Newt? Newt!” She tried to bring the boy’s consciousness back as she lowered him to the ground, kneeling with him to keep her hold on him, and then her gaze flickered up to her son. “Tom, it’s okay, he’s okay, you can put that down.”  
  
Still tense with fear and anxiety, Thomas lowered his gun, his eyes not leaving his mother to make sure she wasn’t hurt in any way and that none of the blood clinging to both of them came from her.  
  
“What the hell is this?” he asked loudly, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in while he took a few steps forward to help his mother move the unconscious body until the boy’s head was resting in Katherine's lap. He tried not to wince at the wet, slippery sensation of blood against his fingers. That was just something he’d never get used to and it always made his stomach clench unpleasantly.  
  
“Something bad,” his mom replied, a hand cupping the young man’s face who she held in her arms.  
  
It was in that moment that the boy twitched, then a soft groan slipped from his lips and his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, his gaze struggling to focus, and Thomas’ mother touched his hand lightly.  
  
“Newt…”  
  
“Wards,” came over the blond boy’s lips, a rough whisper, his gaze flickering unsteadily. “Kat… demons, ‘n angels, both… ‘m sorry…”  
  
“What?!” Thomas looked down incredulously at the young man in his mother’s hold. His gaze was heavy-lidded with pain, the pale skin of his face and his blond hair smudged brown with dried blood and dirt. All in all this Newt guy looked more dead than alive and Thomas wasn’t even sure if they’d be able to save him without professional help. There wasn’t just blood all over his back, now that he could take a closer look, there were also cuts and burns on his bare arms and chest that looked dreadful, and he was shivering all over.  
  
“Mom, what the fuck is going on here?”  
  
Katherine’s gaze rose up to meet his, and it looked serious, as he only ever saw it on cases. “Thomas, listen. I need you to draw a warm bath. Get all the holy water we have, gauze and everything for wound treatment. Take care of him, I need to put up wards.”  
  
Speechless, Thomas watched how his mother eased the boy back down and ran to the kitchen to get the supplies before his training kicked in. _‘Act now and ask questions later’_ always seemed to work best in situations like this. Thomas had learned it the hard way.  
  
He found two bottles of holy water stored away underneath the kitchen sink and a few small ones hidden all over the apartment for emergencies. On his way to the bathroom he saw his mother painting red writings on the walls and doors. The symbols were a mix of demon repelling ones and some Thomas had never seen before.  
  
A pained groan startled him back into action, moving quickly and efficiently as he prepared the bath.  
  
Only when it came to moving Newt - strange name - Thomas paused uncomfortably, not knowing how he should move the young man without hurting him more than necessary. Hesitantly he reached out, moving Newt’s upper body so he could put his arm around him, trying not to wince at the pitiful whine coming from the other’s lips as he lifted him.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, even though he was sure Newt was too out of it to actually hear him. But he did seem aware enough to put one foot before the other, and like that Thomas managed to get him into the bathroom.  
  
There he hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he had to help him undress, but the boy ignored entirely that he was still wearing soiled, light trousers, hands gripping the edge of the tub to steady himself, bare feet unsteadily stepping into the water. Thomas instinctively grabbed his arms to make sure he wouldn't slip, helping the young man lower himself.  
  
When most of his body was covered with water, a hitched breath like a sob fell from the boy's lips.  
  
Thomas watched with quiet helplessness as red swirls slowly coloured the water while he made sure Newt didn’t slip under, holding onto him.  
  
Unsure on how to really help, Thomas took the washcloth he had prepared earlier and carefully started to rinse water over the boy’s shoulder and hair. He gently ran the cloth down Newt’s neck and collarbone and down over his arm, carefully avoiding any burns and hesitating only for a moment when he reached the elegant lines of a tattoo. A dagger, he realised. There were cuts and burns covering it, but Thomas could easily see that the work was beautiful.  
  
Another distressed whimper brought him back out of his observation.  
  
“What should I do?” he asked after a few moments of silence, hoping the young man was conscious enough to give him an answer.  
  
“Back… please…” Newt mumbled heavily. Thomas’ attention shifted to his back, he soaked the washcloth in warm water and squeezed it out again over his shoulders, letting the water run over his skin. It washed away the worst of the blood, and Thomas’ breath faltered.  
  
There were two wounds running down the lines of his shoulder blades, ragged, deep and gruesome, the worst yet of the cuts and burns he had seen so far.  
  
“Fuck,” Thomas cursed under his breath, suddenly feeling sick. The wounds looked raw and angry and incredibly gut-wrenching. His fingers were shaking slightly as he tried his best to clean them. “Fuck,” he repeated when Newt flinched violently at his touch. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry.”  
  
Newt only let out a shivering breath, and in that moment the door clicked open and Thomas’ mom was back. She knelt down next to Thomas, a brief, soft touch on his back conveying her gratitude, but her gaze was on the boy sitting in their tub.  
  
“It’s done. Give me your arm.”  
  
She was opening one of the holy water bottles, her voice calm now, warm in a way that Thomas knew all too well, and Newt raised his arm for her to take his hand without hesitation or reservation. It was still trembling, but stilled in Katherine’s sure and gentle grip. She turned it over to have better access to one of the worst burns on his upper arm, and slowly began pouring holy water over it.  
  
It seemed to evaporate the moment it hit the skin, sizzling almost, and Newt groaned, but the burn on his arm seemed to literally wash off, until there was only fresh, pink skin left.  
  
Thomas watched in confused awe, his body tensing at what was happening in front of his eyes. “Mom?” he asked a bit helplessly, because clearly Newt was some kind of supernatural being and he had never seen his mother act this friendly, this gently with one before.  
  
She glanced over at him and gave him a smile that still couldn’t quite hide the worried edges around her.  
  
“Thank you, Tom. I promise I’ll answer all your questions, okay? We’re fine for now.”  
  
“Sorry…” Newt muttered again, but when Thomas glanced back at him, he could see that his eyes were starting to clear, as was his voice. He was looking at Katherine, then briefly at Thomas before his gaze returned to her. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this… didn’t know where else to go…”  
  
“Sshh, no need at all.” She shook her head and gently touched Newt’s shoulder to hold him in place while she poured holy water over the large burn on his chest.  
  
The noise Newt let out made Thomas bite his lip in sympathy. He may not know what kind of being the boy in their bathtub was, but his mother seemed to care for him, and that was all he needed to know for now. Having made his mind up, he reached out to support Newt’s weight again, giving his mother more space to work. He might have even caught himself rubbing soothing patterns on Newt’s skin.  
  
His mother repeated the procedure on all the burns, and even the cuts seemed to get better from the holy water. The deep wounds on his back stopped bleeding, finally, and when they had carefully rinsed him off entirely with warm water, Newt had stopped shivering and was overall not looking as if he might lose his grasp on consciousness again.  
  
After drying off, he was dressed in a pair of Thomas’ soft sweatpants before Katherine sat him down on the couch and began tending to the wounds on his back so she could bandage them. While she worked, she finally broke the silence that had settled over all three of them with one of the questions that was also burning in Thomas’ mind.  
  
“What happened?” she quietly wanted to know.  
  
Newt sighed and reached up to brush his drying blond hair out of his forehead.  
  
“Demons. I hid something they want. They asked very… insistently. I got away,” he explained in short, tired words. “I came here on foot, there should be no traces anyone can follow.”  
  
Thomas sat down on the edge of the coffee table, giving his mom another bandage, waiting until she was finished patching Newt up before clearing his throat.  
  
“Why did you choose us?” he finally asked, fishing a blanket from a nearby armchair and gently placing it over Newt’s legs.  
  
It made the young man watch him, out of clear but tired dark eyes. His gaze rested on Thomas even when he took the blanket and slid it up around his shoulders and back, and then, after a few long moments, he glanced over to Katherine, something small curling around his lips that felt like a tiny warm smile.  
  
“Your son,” he remarked, and then a hint of something like melancholy washed over his face. “I didn’t realise how much time has passed.”  
  
Katherine, who had shifted to the armchair, gave a small smile back, and Newt finally turned to Thomas again.  
  
“I worked with your parents before, what must be more years ago than I was aware.”  
  
“Oh…” Thomas felt a bit at loss, nervously fiddling with his fingers before asking his next question. “So you’re the exception to the ‘ _do not meddle with supernatural beings_ ’ rule?” He let his gaze wander back towards his mother while making a vague gesture with his hands. “Because he’s clearly not human, right?”  
  
Now that Newt wasn’t on the edge of dying anymore, he at least wanted to know for what he probably had to leave yet another home behind.  
  
“No,” Katherine admitted freely, exchanging another smile with the blond creature on their couch. “Clearly not. He’s what people generally would call an angel.”  
  
“Yeah right,” Thomas scoffed, right on the verge to laughing, but stopped when he noticed his mother’s expression.  
  
“Seriously?” he said incredulously after a long moment of disbelief, and then looked back at Newt, letting his eyes trail over the injured figure on their couch. There was nothing special he could see about him, just a normal-looking young man, he mused, except maybe for Newt’s eyes. Big, brown orbs that held something foreign, something Thomas couldn’t really find a word for.  
  
Right now they looked vaguely amused, but within that, possessing a seemingly unshakable calm. “It’s what people do call us, yes,” he replied. “We exist like the creatures you call demons exist too. Though I’d take everything you’ve heard about us with a grain of salt.”  
  
Thomas was aware that he was probably staring at Newt like some kind of idiot, all big eyes and open mouth, but the information he had just been given somehow blew his mind.  
  
“You don’t look very,” he paused and tried to find the right word, “… angely.”  
  
Newt's eyebrows went up, the corners of his mouth twitching weakly.  
  
"I'm not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment."  
  
“WelI, I mean, aren't you supposed to have a halo and wings or be incredibly beautiful… I mean not that you aren’t… I mean,” Thomas rambled on, cursing his non-existent brain to mouth filter in the process. He could do this. Angels, sure. Why not? Demons were real after all. “At least that’s what all the books say, right?”  
  
Newt just looked at him for a few long moments, with an expression on his face that could have turned into either a happy one, or a sad one.  
  
"Grain of salt," he reminded him softly. "There are no halos. We come in all forms, as we share the bodies of humans. And I do have wings. Usually. They cut them off."  
  
Thomas needed a moment to really understand what Newt had just told him, but when he finally did, a sudden wave of nausea overcame him. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly.  
  
"Newt…" his mom spoke up again now, soft and worried, and he looked at them both.  
  
"I'm alright. They'll grow back."  
  
“How long?” Thomas asked with wonder in his voice. He wasn’t sure why he was still surprised about Newt’s revelation after what he had seen earlier.  
  
The angel shrugged slowly, his eyes weary. “A few days. I won’t -”  
  
“You’ll stay,” Katherine interrupted Newt gently but firmly. “This place is as safe as it can be for you right now. You need to heal.”  
  
There was a soft huff in reply. “I think I’m too tired to argue,” he said, drawing the blanket more firmly around his shoulders.  
  
Katherine smiled, and then glanced back at Thomas.  
  
“And you need to go back to bed. School tomorrow.”  
  
“Mom!” Thomas protested loudly, hating the fact that he still didn’t know what was really going on here. “He didn’t even tell us why they want him.”  
  
“I did, technically,” Newt interjected, a small smile flickering over his lips. “I hid something they’re very keen on having.”  
  
“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Katherine added and stood up from the armchair. “You can stay up and ask all the questions you want then. Bed now.”  
  
“Fine,” Thomas huffed, feeling slightly embarrassed about being treated like a kid in front of Newt. “But you have to keep me updated tomorrow so I’ll know everything's okay here.” He made his way to the door, briefly pausing at the threshold to look back. “Good night, Newt.” Thomas smiled at him and hoped he'd feel better tomorrow before he caught his mother’s gaze, nodding. “Night, mom.”  
  
“Good night, sweetheart,” she replied, and though Newt looked exhausted, Thomas received the most prominent smile from him so far.  
  
The clock showed 5:32 am when Thomas finally closed his eyes again. But when he did, sleep came immediately.

  


***

It was an exhausting day of school that followed. His lack of sleep paired with his mind running in circles about their unexpected, extraordinary guest. If he hadn’t seen him again that morning when he had left the apartment, he would have thought it must have all been a dream. But he’d been there, sleeping on the couch, resting on his stomach with his back bandaged, and Katherine still awake, keeping silent watch. That didn’t stop Thomas from pondering the ‘how’ and ‘why’, and by the time he was done with school, training with the athletes, and had made his way home through the snow that had started to drift down, darkness was falling, and it really was about time he got home.

Newt was still asleep on the couch, looking as though he hadn’t moved a bit since that morning. The armchair his mother had been in was vacated now, and he could hear quiet sounds from the kitchen. The scent of freshly made food lingered in the air, and as his eyes automatically strayed back towards the sleeping figure on the couch, Thomas wondered if angels needed food to survive like humans did or if they had a different energy source.

Taking a closer look at the sleeping boy, Thomas decided he already looked somehow healthier than he had this morning. Not so pale anymore, his cheeks now rosy-tinted instead, and his sleeping face looked calm and relaxed as the soft light coming from the small lamp on the side-table painted his blond hair in a golden hue.

Like an angel, Thomas thought in fascination and moved further into the room.

"Tom?" His mother's whisper made him glance back to where she had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She looked tired but gave him a smile. "Hungry?"

“Hey,” Thomas whispered the greeting, smiling a bit at his mother before he nodded and silently followed her back to the kitchen.

The pasta he was given tasted rich and delicious and he managed to eat half of it in a matter of moments.

“How is he?” he finally asked between two forks of pasta, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Recovering,” Katherine replied, quietly cleaning away the remains of her cooking. “They’ve done a real job on him…”

Thomas hummed in agreement, remembering the pale skin covered with cuts and burns and bruises, and how he had seen the large gaping slashes on Newt’s back for the first time. He was sure someone human would have barely been able to survive torture like that. When he looked back at his mother, he saw the dark circles underneath her eyes and the yawn she tried to suppress.

“How about you catch up on some sleep and I’ll check the wards and look after Newt for a while?”

“I don’t even think I’m going to protest.” Katherine gave him a smile. “Thanks, darling. Wake me up if anything’s the matter, yes?” she asked and tilted her head up to kiss his cheek.

Thomas waited until he heard her disappear inside her bedroom before he cleared his plate and put it into the dishwasher. The wards were all perfectly in place, so Thomas just added a bit more salt to the lines across the windows and doors, then made his way back into the living room where the last two windows were. He checked the lines quietly and refreshed them with a few well practiced motions. Thomas was almost done when his elbow caught on a stack of books lying on the sideboard underneath the window, sending them to the ground with a loud thump.

The angel on the couch bolted upwards with a small gasp, eyes flickering around in disorientation.

“Oh fuck… I’m sorry, sorry,” Thomas said quickly, wincing when he saw the pain and something like fear flash over Newt’s face. “I just knocked over some books.”

Carefully he picked them up from the ground and put them back onto the sideboard, and when he glanced over at the angel again, he saw that he had already relaxed. A hand went up to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand, and that gesture combined with the slightly ruffled blond hair made him look incredibly human for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Newt replied and carefully lay back down on his front, his gaze, now calm again, wandering around the living room. “What time is it?”

The mellow light still made Newt look all warm and soft around the edges, and once again Thomas found himself staring at him, wondering if all angels looked like this or if it was just Newt. The angel lying on his couch. An actual fucking _angel_. His mind was still coming to terms with that.

He realised that he had forgotten to reply when Newt’s eyes settled on him and he gently drew up his eyebrows.

“Oh… sorry!” Thomas quickly looked down at his watch, feeling his cheeks grow warm under the angel’s gaze.

“It’s around 8,” he replied, “you pretty much slept the whole day. Mom went to get some sleep after I came back from school.”

By now Newt actually looked like he had just woken up from sleep again, the alarm having vanished from his features. His head was back on the pillow, face turned towards the room, and he watched Thomas, a small smile now playing on his lips.

“How old are you?”

Thomas took Newt’s question as an invitation to come closer. “Seventeen,” he answered and sat down on the armchair his mother had vacated earlier, Newt’s gaze never leaving him.

“Seventeen…” Newt repeated slowly, tasting the word on his tongue. For a few moments he just looked at Thomas, and then finally said, “I’m sorry for all the fuss.”

Thomas crooked his head, meeting Newt’s eyes. “It’s okay. If my mom says you’re cool then I’m good. How old are you?” The question was out before Thomas realised it was a stupid one. “I mean… how old is… your…” He trailed off weakly, making a vague hand gesture into the direction of Newt’s body.

The corners around the angel’s mouth twitched softly in another small smile. “Not too old. He was born in the twenties, in England.”

At least that explained the British accent, Thomas thought as he blinked owlishly at Newt’s answer. “In the twenties, really?”

Newt hummed quietly in affirmation. His eyes closed, and for a few moments it was quiet, making Thomas wonder if he should leave the other alone. But then Newt looked at him again, eyes dark and clear.  
“I guess that sounds a lot longer for you.”

Thomas nodded, trying to imagine what it must have been like. He suddenly saw Newt in a suit and a hat in his mind and it made him smile.

"I'm not sure what to ask first," he said truthfully. "I'm stuck between wanting to know more about the times you’ve lived in or asking about how it works with you and your… vessel."

“Well, the second one is easier to answer,” Newt replied, his expression still sleepily open and friendly, and Thomas still wasn’t entirely sure if the angel was amused or liked to be indulgent. “You know how demons just take over bodies, kill the human, stick to them until the body is destroyed to move on? My kind… we only borrow, and coexist. We can’t enter anyone’s body without the human’s consent. They invite us in."

This wasn't what Thomas had thought he would hear. He had expected that the human behind the angel's body had died and Newt had just seized the moment in the right second. Not… _this_. "So he's still inside there? After all this time?" Thomas asked carefully while leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

It brought another small smile to Newt's lips, his eyes never leaving Thomas. "He's still with me," he said, and there was a gentle note in his voice.

But Thomas couldn’t help frowning, unsure if his first instinct, that this sounded way too much like possession, held any truth at all, or if he was seriously misunderstanding something here. “So he’s trapped inside his own body?”

“No,” Newt replied immediately, sounding more serious now. “This isn’t possession, Thomas, don’t make that mistake. I didn’t deceive him, I am not suppressing him, there’s no coercion and no force. He’s at peace.”

For a moment Thomas didn’t know what to say, so a heavy silence settled over them in which Thomas tried to make sense of the things Newt was telling him. The concept of letting something voluntarily possess your body just felt foreign.

“How?” he then simply asked. “I mean, I just can’t understand how someone would want that, you know?”

Newt just looked at him for a long moment, the expression on his face understanding but also a little sad.

“Those were hard times, back then,” he eventually said quietly. “And the human soul can only take so much. He hid it well, most of the time, but he was… desperately unhappy.”

Thomas bit back the small sigh that wanted to escape at Newt’s rather vague words, frustrated because it didn’t really help him to understand everything as a whole. But he also sensed it was something personal for Newt.

“Would you release him if he wanted you to?”

Newt sighed quietly. It didn’t look like he was losing his patience, merely like he was looking for words to make Thomas understand.

“He isn’t my prisoner, and if he didn’t want me there, I’d have left a long time ago. He invited me, asked me in, in full conscience of everything that entailed, and he’s healing.”

Thomas pursed his lips thoughtfully, wondering what had to happen to someone that would need so many years to heal, as Newt put it.

Eventually he figured changing the topic would be safer than discussing something this personal and obviously sensitive with a supernatural being he knew next to nothing about. His mother seemed okay with leaving him alone with Newt, and he trusted her judgment.

“Right, do you eat? There’s still some pasta left.”

“Thank you, but no,” the angel replied with a small, fleeting smile. He reached down for the blanket pooled around his hips, and slowly, carefully, drew it up over his shoulders before wrapping his arms around the pillow Katherine must have given him.

Thomas nodded slowly, considering.

“You’re not hungry or you don’t eat?”

“I don’t need it the way you do,” Newt replied, shaking his head subtly.

“Alright,” Thomas replied, even though Newt’s comment didn’t exactly elucidate anything. Biting down on his lower lip Thomas shrugged his shoulders, and then just let silence fall over them.

Eventually, Newt’s gaze returned to him, his dark eyes watching him evenly for a few seconds, before he shifted. “Could I have another bath?”

Thomas met Newt’s eyes again and he thought he could see some kind of peace offering lingering inside of them. Something that made his insides twing with regret. He had almost forgotten the state Newt had been in when he had arrived here. “Of course,” he said softly, wetting his lips. “Do you need help?”

“Not sure yet.” There was a small, wry smile flickering over Newt’s lips as he started to pick himself up from the couch, grimacing the moment he had to put strain on his shoulders. Once he sat upright, he paused and took a slow, deliberate breath before pushing the blanket away from his legs and getting to his feet.

The moment he saw Newt struggling to keep himself from tumbling forward, Thomas quickly stood up and reached out to keep the angel from falling over. “Fuck, wait, let me help you,” he said and carefully held Newt by his shoulders.

“So much for that,” the angel mumbled dryly, but didn’t feel like he was actually going to fall. He steadied himself with one hand on Thomas’ forearm, and then nodded. “Alright… I should be good.”

Newt’s skin felt unusually warm against his fingers, almost like he had a fever running through his system, and Thomas wondered if that correlated with Newt actually healing or with him being an angel.

“Come on, just let me help you. I can’t have you drown in my bathtub. Mom would kill me.”

“I doubt that,” Newt smiled wryly, but protested no further when Thomas kept a light grip on him as he lead him towards the bathroom.

While the hot water filled the tub, Newt fiddled with the bandage around his chest and back, slowly unrolling it. Now under the harsher light and away from the couch and blanket, the signs of what had happened to him were more clearly visible again, but the wounds that were visible on his torso had faded to mere scratches.

Only when Thomas helped Newt into the bath once he was naked, he noticed the grey shadow lines growing from the two wounds on the angel’s back that were already looking much better than the night before. At first he thought they were an infection spreading, but a closer look showed him that the lines had a pattern, almost as if…

“Oh,” he whispered, entirely fascinated, unthinkingly reaching out to let his fingers trace the lines curling over Newt’s shoulder blade.

He didn’t flinch or jump in any way, not even slightly, the touch only bringing a soft, unsteady intake of breath over the angel’s lips.

The noise caused Thomas to draw his hand back, breaking the contact between them while a feeling of embarrassment spread through him as he realised he had just touched Newt’s wings without any permission. “I’m sorry,” Thomas mumbled awkwardly, “I didn’t think.”

“No need to,” Newt replied after a moment, and Thomas could see the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. He looked at him over his shoulder. “It’s not as if it was unpleasant.”

Their gazes met over Newt’s shoulder and Thomas was painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were. His fingers still itched to touch and feel, to find the difference between Newt’s skin and the lines running over it, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to find any. His mouth felt dry when he found himself asking, “It wasn’t?”

The smile he was regarded with widened, while Newt began to slowly and deliberately cup water in his hands and let it run over his arms, chest, shoulders and back. “Not at all. Feel free.”

Before he knew it, Thomas’ fingers were back on Newt’s skin, helping the blond pour water over his body and healing wounds. Every now and then he let his wet fingertips run over the greyish lines on Newt’s back and shoulder blades. Thomas’ mouth felt dry and the air strangely heavy and hot as a comfortable silence settled around them. Especially since the effect it had on Newt still seemed to be the same as the first time. His eyes had fallen shut, and though it was hard to tell whether Thomas’ touch had anything to do with that or if it was because he was cupping water to let it run over his hair and his face, the way his lips had parted and his breathing had gotten deeper was hard to attribute to anything else. Much less the shudder that went through his body when Thomas’ fingertips followed a soft grey line near one of his cuts, a reaction that was immediately mirrored by Thomas’ body. The shudder rolled over him in a warm wave until it pooled as a familiar heat inside his lower stomach, making him blush even more as he realised what had happened.

Well, that was a new and unexpected development.

Clearing his throat, Thomas slowly pulled his hands away, but not before he gave the edge of both slowly growing wings a last caressing stroke, and Newt’s spine arched subtly from the touch.

“Want some, uuh… shampoo?”

It took a moment until Newt reacted and glanced up at him over his shoulder again. “Oh, yes,” he said then, realisation washing over his face. “Please.”

Thomas stretched and reached for the shelf above them, grabbing the shampoo before he gave it to Newt with a small smile. “Here, I’ll go and fetch some new clothes for you, okay?”

“Thank you.” Newt’s voice was warm and without any edges again, the way it had been when he had just woken up.

When Thomas returned, the water was soap-murky and Newt was browsing himself off, his movements still mindful of his injured shoulders, but even though Thomas still kept an eye on him to prevent any slipping or falling or buckling legs, the angel had steadied himself now, and towelled and dressed himself alone. Only when he sat on the couch again, he asked for Thomas’ assistance in bandaging his shoulders one more time.

Thomas was almost done, carefully fixating the end of the bandage with a strip of tape, before he asked his next question.

"The water really helped, right? I mean, the wounds on your back are already looking like they're healing and… uhh, your wings…"

“Yes.” Newt turned around towards Thomas, pulling his leg up under him. “The water does help a lot. Thank you, for all of this. I owe you.”

Thomas smiled lightly.

“Nah, I’m just glad you’re feeling better, really. And, hey, it’s not every day you have an actual angel sleeping on your couch.”

That made the corners of Newt’s mouth twitch into a smile. “Maybe. Though I suppose in your profession it doesn’t hurt to have an angel owe you either.”

“Why, does it get me positive karma points?” Thomas asked jokingly, although he had to admit he was curious about what powers the slender body actually held.

This time, Newt’s widening smile remained enigmatic, and the only reply he got.

“So,” Thomas started after a moment of silence, still smiling around his words, “what are angels doing for fun? Cooking, knitting, origami?”

That brought a startled sound over Newt’s lips that sounded like a laugh. “Origami is nice, actually, don’t make it sound boring.”

Thomas decided he liked Newt like this, open and approachable with a smile on his face, making it so easy to talk to him.

“Of course it is,” Thomas laughed. “What about video games? Do angels play Mario Kart?”

From the look on Newt’s face alone it was rather obvious that they didn’t. “Not… usually. I guess.”

Thomas could feel himself getting excited at the prospect of making Newt play video games with him, simply from the surreality of the thought. A wide grin spread on his face.

“Let’s change that.”

***

Mondays were some kind of special torture, Thomas decided on his way back from a painfully slow day of school. He was itching to go home, eat something and maybe introduce Newt the world of Game of Thrones. The angel’s health had improved rapidly over the weekend, and Thomas wondered if today was the day Newt would finally leave their home. A thought that somehow didn’t sit right with him.

He knew something was wrong the moment he saw the three shady-looking strangers lingering on the doorsteps of their apartment complex. One of the two guys was smoking a cigarette, staring up the windows while the other one seemed to study the doorbell panel. Ignoring the slight shiver of fear running through him when the piercing gaze of the woman found his, Thomas reached into his front pocket and fished out his cellphone, quickly sending out the emergency code to his mother.

The moment he pressed the send button, a vice like grip on the back of his neck and the cold bite of sharp steel pressing against the small of his back under the winter jacket made him freeze.

"Now what do we have here," a female voice purred into his ear.

His whole body tenses under the contact, adrenaline making his heart beat at a furious pace and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sugar-sweet voice of the demon.

“Fuck off,” he growled recklessly as his mind instantly settled into his mother's training.

_‘Don’t do anything stupid, Thomas. Be patient. Wait for an opening.’_

He was being pressed forward, the other demons taking notice now.

"Mouthy," the woman commented, shaking him by the back of his neck a like a puppy. She walked him right past the building into a narrow alley, the others falling into step behind her. "You and I are going to have a little _fun_."

Thomas winced at the sharp nails biting into his skin, surely leaving bruises on his neck, as the group moved, but in the end it was exactly this movement he needed to twist his body out of her hold and place a hard punch into her stomach with his elbow. The blade in his back slipped at the abrupt shift and nicked his skin before he could put enough space between them.

“Sorry, but you’re not my type,” Thomas hissed while he scoped out his options. He knew he couldn’t take on the three of them, so all that was left was running down the clock.

This time the demon didn’t seem inclined to engage in any kind of wordplay, her eyes a deep black.

“You’re going to tell me where you hid the angel, or we’re going to strap you to a chair and make you watch while we strip the skin off your mother.”

Thomas felt a new mixture of anger and fear sparking up inside him at her words as he watched them circle him, effectively closing off every escape route.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answered, fighting to keep his voice steady. Maybe if he was fast enough he could get in another well-placed hit, take one out and run. “Must have got the wrong address.”

The woman’s eyes flashed in impatience.

“That’s not what you’ll say once we -”

“None of this is necessary,” another voice spoke up now, effectively shutting her up as they all turned around.

Newt had appeared in the opening of the alley, dark eyes watching them all, still clad in sweatpants, a zipped hoodie and a pair of Thomas’ sneakers, looking so damn young and _so damn harmless_.

“Newt,” Thomas said warningly while he watched the angel come closer with an almost emotionless expression on his face. Suddenly he felt scared not only for his own life and he really hoped his mom would arrive soon, preferably with backup.

A predatory smile was stretching on the demon’s face. “That was _easy_.”

“Let the boy leave. You know I’m not strong enough yet to disappear, and he doesn’t have what you want,” Newt said calmly, slender fingers pulling down the zipper on his hoodie and pulling it off his shoulders, baring skin to the cold winter evening air.

Acting on bare instinct and anger, Thomas used the shift of attention towards Newt and delivered a hard kick to the side of the demon’s knee closest to him. The crunch and the short scream of pain was the most satisfying thing he had heard all day and Thomas felt a brief flash of superiority until the next thing he knew was him hitting the rough stone wall and a sharp pain burning in his shoulder and arm.

“Stop! Dear God, will you all stop!”

That was Newt, and though Thomas couldn’t see him from where he was pressed against the wall by one of the demons, or anything else of what was happening behind him, the tone in his voice prevented him from trying anything else.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Let him leave. And I’ll show you where I hid it.”

Something in Newt’s voice caused Thomas to stop struggling against the hold of the demon. His shoulder was still pulsing painfully and it didn’t help that the hands on his body clawed harshly into his skin.  
“And why should we do that, little angel?” the female demon asked, her voice sounding hard and unforgiving, but Newt replied immediately.

“Do you, or do you not want it?”

There was a long, heavy pause before Thomas heard the reply.

“Fine,” the demon hissed like she'd just swallowed something disgusting. “But if you’re lying, I promise you we will find your pet here, rip him into tiny little pieces and take him home with us just to do it over and over again.”

And Thomas believed her, he thought as he got ripped away from the wall and pushed towards where Newt was standing, his features betraying none of his thoughts.

Only when Thomas caught himself and straightened, the angel reacted, his gaze going over to him as he came closer. Even that was hard to figure out, if it was a silent question whether he was alright, or a warning, or something else entirely.

Holding his shoulder he slowly made his way towards Newt, giving him a tiny nod to answer the angel’s questioning look, even if he couldn’t really read it. Thomas tried not to show any fear when he stopped a few paces behind Newt, suppressing the overwhelming urge to grab the angel and run like hell. Newt shouldn’t fight them, not when his wounds only just healed, and what if he couldn’t hold up against them?

“Now show us,” the demon demanded, her gaze never having left Newt, who looked away from Thomas again to return it.

His heart was pounding as he took another slow step back but couldn’t make himself leave, needing to see what would happen now. Where was his mom? What the fuck were they going to do?

And then Newt shifted, and Thomas could see the outlines of his wings, now that Newt was between him and the demons, black on his skin, bigger now than he’d seen them last, lines reaching from the top of his shoulder blades down even underneath the waistband of his sweatpants with their tips. But he was only moving his arms, one hand reaching for the other, for the inside of his lower arm. And it looked like his skin cracked open, light pouring out along the dark lines of the dagger tattoo that Thomas had caught glimpses of during those baths.

The understanding that was rushing through him was mirrored on the demons’ expressions as well, and the woman hissed.

“ _This_ is it? You little _snake_!”

The dagger’s handle slid into Newt’s palm and the cracks of light vanished, leaving the skin light and bare now.

Thomas’ breath caught in his throat, swallowing dryly as his eyes saw the smooth steel of the dagger glimmer in the faint light. He didn’t know why this dagger was of such importance to either of them, but he didn’t want Newt to give up on it for him, not after he had suffered so much to hide it.

His body tensed when saw the female demon smirk and take a step towards Newt.

“If I had known you had it with you all along and it would only take a pathetic little human to make you relent, we could have done that sooner. Now slide it over.”

Newt didn’t reply right away. His fingertips brushed over the top of the dagger’s handle, then the slender digits wrapped around it more securely and his shoulders rolled subtly.

Thomas thought he saw a ripple go through the outlined feathers on his back.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Surprised, Thomas took half a step forward, not really knowing what he was about to do. How he could stop Newt from being hurt. But before he could think of anything to do, the wings rippled again, and then they separated from his skin just like the dagger had, but when they unfurled and spread out, they were bigger, much bigger than they had been on his back.

A look of stunned surprise spread on every demon’s face, then rage and a flicker of hesitation, and Thomas realised that they hadn’t known, simply hadn’t seen. Because they had cut them off, and they hadn’t thought…

Thomas wasn’t even able to finish that thought before hell broke loose. A dull shot rang through the air before his brain could even process what was about to happen, shattering one of the demon’s knees, making him jerk and scream. And Newt had already moved, one beat of his wings having pushed him up and forward, into a fight with the other male demon whose eyes were pitch black now.

It was like nothing Thomas had ever seen. Both Newt and the demon were stronger and faster, of course they were, and they lashed out and blocked while another shot rang out, slowing down the woman who had made to sprint towards Thomas. And then the demon Newt was fighting shrieked, the sound ending in a gurgle, because the dagger had been driven through his chest and he was twitching, darkness sizzling under his skin, and finally, finally Thomas _got it_.

The dagger could kill them. However it was possible, but it trapped them in their body and lit them up from the inside.

Newt had hidden it right beneath their eyes in his own skin, like he did with his wings, Thomas realised, and he could only watch, stunned, as the angel swiftly killed the other man whose knee had been shattered, and then fought the last demon, the woman, who had no chance at all with her injured leg. Newt took her down with a force and pace that was almost impossible for Thomas’ brain to process, a blow to the face, a twist of her arm, and she was on her back with Newt crouched above her, wings large and majestic.

The tip of the dagger was digging into her chest and she coughed, black eyes trained on the angel.

“You little bastard,” she rasped, and for a moment it was quiet. Newt didn’t reply, but a smile spread on his face that was the most chilling thing Thomas had ever seen.

The demon died when the dagger was shoved right into her heart, and a strange silence settled over the alley.

“Uhm,” Thomas said after a few seconds, not knowing what to do when Newt’s head turned and he looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

In that moment he didn’t know how he’d ever been able to look at Newt and think the word ‘harmless’ in any capacity. He didn’t even quite dare to move until the angel turned his gaze away and straightened. He rolled his shoulders, his neck, wings folding against his back and growing back into lines along the skin. The dagger aligned with the pale skin of the inside of his forearm again, sinking back into it.

“Tom?”

His mother’s voice behind his back startled him out of his trance and a moment later Katherine’s hands were on his body checking him for injuries before being pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m fine, mom,” Thomas mumbled reassuringly over her shoulder, adrenalin draining from his body, leaving him light-headed and shaky. He hadn’t realised it earlier, but this had been a close call.

“We should get back inside,” Newt’s voice spoke up, and they broke out of their embrace to look at him. The angel was still watching the dead demons though, head tilted slightly to the side, and before Thomas had the chance to ask what they were going to do about the corpses, something started to happen to the first demon that had died. It looked like there were cracks appearing over his skin, light bleeding through, and then he simply started to fall apart.

It took only seconds before it happened to the other demons as well.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked as they watched the bodies crumble to dust. “I’ve never seen demons do something like that.”

His eyes followed Newt who was picking up his forgotten hoodie, slipping back into it, and Thomas could catch a last, fascinating ripple of the lines of his wings before the fabric finally covered them.

“It’s a side effect,” Newt explained vaguely before fully turning towards them again, gaze lingering a bit longer on Thomas. His hand reached out then, and he lifted the back of both Thomas’ winter jacket and the sweater underneath to look at the cut the female demon’s knife had left there.

The cold air and the sudden closeness startled Thomas so much his body gave a little shudder, followed by a ripple of something warm rushing through him, because somehow knowing that Newt cared about his well-being felt surprisingly good.

“It’s okay,” he reassured Newt in a quiet voice, “it almost doesn't hurt.”

“We should disinfect it upstairs,” Newt replied, but when his mom nodded, Thomas thought the words were more directed at her. The angel pulled the fabric down again, shutting the cold air out, the touches of his hands gentle. “And thank you for the backup.”

Katherine smiled a little, her hand on Thomas’ back. “Thank _you_. Come on, Tom.”

Thomas nodded and threw Newt a small smile.

“Thank you,” he echoed at Newt, catching the angel’s eyes with his own before he let his mom lead him back out onto the street and they made their way back into their apartment.

Thinking about it, Thomas was glad the dagger took care of the demon’s bodies, because having to get rid of the dead vessels was always a gruesome thing to do. It always left a bad taste in his mouth when his mind wandered to the human lives that had once been there and were lost the second those assholes possessed them.

All three of them had hoped that the demons wouldn’t find out where Newt had found refuge, or at least that they’d have a bit more time. If any of the demons had gotten away, Thomas knew they’d be packing their bags right now to be out of the city within the hour.

Thomas was still quietly crossing his fingers that they wouldn’t have to leave at all.

***

That night Thomas woke from an uneasy sleep to the feeling of someone softly touching his shoulder. Sleep was still clinging to him when the blurry image of Newt’s face slowly came into focus. There was a dim light coming from the hallway through the half-open door of his room, and for a moment it seemed like it was clinging to Newt like a veil before Thomas managed to fully blink into consciousness.

“Newt?” he asked, suddenly feeling wide awake and worried. “Something wrong?”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” the angel replied, and Thomas relaxed slightly because he wasn’t in a hurry and there was no urgency in his voice, so there probably wasn’t really anything wrong. “It’s morning,” Newt confirmed that a moment later, his gaze flickering to the window for a moment. “I need to leave.”

“Leave?” Thomas repeated while he sat up, the sheets slipping down around his waist before his mind really registered the true consequences behind Newt’s words.

“Why?” he asked when Newt didn’t answer immediately and suddenly he felt the urge to try to talk him out of leaving. Even though he had always known that realistically Newt would heal and then leave for whatever place he called home, it now made his throat burn in disappointment.

“I don’t want to put you and your mother in danger by staying,” Newt replied quietly, looking at him from where he’d taken a step back from the bed when Thomas had sat up. “I’ll leave a trace, lure away any demons that could still turn up. So that you can hopefully stay here.”

Newt was right. It was the only reasonable thing to do and maybe it was even enough to keep them from having to move. Still…

“Are you sure you’re completely healed?” he asked, trying to read the expression that played on Newt’s face, watching as a smile bloomed on his lips.

“I am feeling kind of alright.”

“Of course,” Thomas nodded, a mild scowl playing on his face when he wondered if Newt was making fun of him.

It only made the corners of the angel’s mouth twitch. But he didn’t comment on it, instead sitting down on the the foot of Thomas’ bed, facing him.

“There’s a lot I have to thank you for. That I’m feeling as healthy as I do is solely because of you, and believe me, I won’t forget that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Thomas put it off with a wave of his hand. “You saved me from a bunch of crazy as fuck demons, remember?” A grin slipped over his lips. “So I think we’re even.”

Newt grinned back at him, and he suddenly looked youthful again and not like some ancient, admittedly sometimes, scary being.

“Alright. So, Tommy, tell me, after all of this… What do you think of angels now?”

Thomas couldn’t stop the small laugh bubbling up at Newt’s question and at the expectant look in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know about angels, but _you_ kinda suck at Mario Kart,” Thomas answered jokingly, concentrating on observing Newt’s face because he wanted to see every reaction his words evoked. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if Newt really understood the concept of humor or even worse sarcasm, but this time the grin on his face only widened.

“Nobody’s perfect, right?” Newt returned, one hand coming up to drag his hand through his hair. If Thomas didn’t know better, he’d claim that he was just sitting in front of a perfectly normal teenager right now.

“Right,” Thomas nodded, his grin having turned into a gentle smile. “But as I said, I don’t know anything about other angels, but I know you and I think you’re pretty okay.”

“If that doesn’t fulfill one of my lifetime goals.” The smile Newt gave him might have been teasing, but it was also gentle around the edges. The angel unfolded his legs and got back to his feet. “I really need to leave. I’m sorry for having woken you, but I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

Thomas followed the angel’s example and left the warmth of his bed. “No need to be sorry. I’m glad you woke me,” he reassured Newt before a small span of silence stretched between them. “So…” Thomas started eventually, unsure of what to do or what to expect. Had it been one of his friends he wouldn’t hesitate to pull them into a firm half-hug to say goodbye, but with Newt it was different and he didn’t even know why.

But the angel didn't seem to find this awkward at all, and if he picked up on Thomas’ thought, he didn’t show it.

"Take care of yourself out there," Newt said instead, his eyes burning into Thomas' for a moment with a kind of intensity he hadn't expected. And then, just like that, Newt had crossed the space between them, had raised his hand to touch the side of his head, and then he leaned forward, his lips touching Thomas' forehead.

The contact was brief, almost fleeting, over in a heartbeat. And yet it somehow managed to invigorate every fibre in Thomas’ body and quieten his thoughts at the same time, almost like all the tension and anxiousness seeped away with the contact.

“You too,” he answered softly when Newt pulled back, and he received a small, mysterious smile.

Newt was gone as quickly as he had arrived those couple of days ago, only much, much more quietly. A bit like a dream, Thomas thought as he glanced up at the sky outside his window only just bleeding into the soft colours of morning.  


***

  
**  
_Present_  
**

Thomas could feel a trail of sweat running down the side of his forehead, cumulating at the corner of his left eye, the sting it caused barely palpable over the ache in his arms and legs. An annoyed growl left his throat when yet another attempt at freeing himself ended in an exhausted slump of his body.  
  
Fucking bitch must have had an A in _101 Knots for tying people to a ceiling._  
  
Thomas sighed, and not for the first time in the last half a year, he wished he could just ignore his stupid pride and call for Newt, but then again, these days the angel seemed to be the sole reason as to why he even ended up in situations like this. If the Moroi hadn’t run away, Thomas would have had a chance to _do_ something… anything. Maybe even that fancy trick his mom had taught him, snap the demon's head with a twist of his legs.  
  
Looking back on it, Thomas couldn’t even pinpoint when demons had started to fear him because of this _thing_ , this fucking undefined, frustrating thing he had with Newt. He knew it had just sort of happened after the incident with the dagger, as Newt had kept the habit of showing up out of thin air when things got really tight for Thomas, always more or less saving his life. But when had it spread like some piece of demon gossip which now even prevented him from doing his job? All because of some _spark_ Newt had left on him?  
  
New footsteps made Thomas stiffen very suddenly, but he barely had time to actually be alarmed before a very, very familiar figure stepped into his line of sight.  
  
Newt still looked as he had all these years. Still young and blond and tall and with these warm dark eyes. Still with the ability to just cross his arms over his chest, let his gaze trail slowly from the tips of Thomas’ fingers down to his toes and back to his eyes, and just _judge_ him silently.  
  
Thomas pursed his lips and rolled his eyes while he tried to ignore the sudden little jolt of relief his stomach gave at the sight, even though he hated the silent scolding he could read in Newt’s eyes.  
  
“Figures,” he mumbled under his breath, feeling a light flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks at being caught in such a situation, before adding more loudly, “Gonna cut me down or what?”  
  
“How do you always end up in situations like this, hm?”  
  
Newt was raising his eyebrows at him, but then stepped closer and reached up, his long arms easily reaching the knots around Thomas’ wrists to finally, finally release the pressure cutting his blood off from his hands.  
  
“Not my fault,” Thomas protested immediately.  
  
The sudden full, unbound weight of his body hit him harder than he was prepared for. His muscles were feeling like pudding and his knees were unstable, and so he couldn’t keep himself from swaying softly into Newt, who grabbed him immediately.  
  
The hands on him stayed until Thomas had regained his balance, Newt’s gaze steady on him, attentive, his head cocked slightly to the side.  
  
“Whose fault is it then?”  
  
Thomas snorted softly, taking a step backwards in an attempt to put some space between them. Newt’s closeness still had the same effect on him as it had back in his teen years. It was ridiculous.  
  
“Yours, apparently.”  
  
Newt just raised his eyebrows at him, looking majorly unimpressed.  
  
“It’s true!” Thomas protested loudly, rubbing his sore wrists as the blood came rushing back full force and made his limbs tingle painfully. “So tell me, did you leave angel cooties all over me?”  
  
“There might be traces of my signature left,” Newt replied all too seriously as he stepped closer and took Thomas’ hands into his to inspect his wrists, and Thomas wanted to roll his eyes. Still hadn’t learned how to understand a bit of sarcasm it seemed. And, unsurprisingly, Newt did go on in the same vein. “You need to be more careful, Tommy, how often do we need to have this talk?”  
  
“I’m fine,” he reassured Newt, waiting for the angel to really look at him, and when he did, Thomas gave him a small smile. “Just a few scratches.”  
  
“Pure luck.” Newt was looking intently at him, and as always when those brown eyes bore into him like that, goosebumps danced over Thomas’ skin. “Some day it’s going to run out. And I can’t always be there when you get into trouble.”  
  
“And the only way that will ever change is if I quit my job,” Thomas answered, hoping their meeting wouldn’t end in a stupid fight. “But we both know that won’t happen any time soon.”  
  
Silence settled around them, both just standing there for a few quiet moments, their gazes connected, and suddenly Thomas couldn’t believe the burst of longing crawling up his throat.  
  
“I missed you,” he whispered finally, the truth leaving his mouth before he could choke it back.  
  
He thought he could see something soften on Newt’s features even before a small smile curled around the angel’s lips.  
  
“I missed you too,” he replied, and that admission almost took Thomas’ breath away.  
  
They shouldn’t be doing this, Thomas knew he should stop it now, step away from Newt and into safer fields, because they’ve been over this. Again and again and again, like a freaking broken record.  
And yet, here they were. Standing too close, _touching_ , with Thomas’ heart beating loudly in his ears while every fibre of his body ached for Newt. It made Thomas almost forget why he was annoyed with the angel in the first place.  
  
“Fuck,” he breathed shakingly, frustration choking around the word.  
  
“Are you alright?” Newt asked immediately, but Thomas could hear from the tilt in his voice that he meant physically, misattributing his reaction. Or wanting to. The thought was confirmed when Thomas felt warmth rushing through his wrists from where Newt was still touching them, wrapping around the chafing the ties had left on him.  
  
"I'm fine, Newt," Thomas repeated his earlier words, the edge he intended to say them with dissolving into a weak protest around the familiar feeling of Newt healing him.  
  
They shouldn't be doing this, not when it always left Thomas with the hollow feeling of wanting more.  
  
And Newt - he wasn’t exactly making it better. He was just looking at Thomas for a long moment in that way of his, impenetrable, impossible to read, and then -  
  
Newt’s shoulders slumped in a half defeated sigh.  
  
“When did you break up?"  
  
Thomas wasn’t even surprised anymore, didn’t even think to wonder how he knew. He thought about denying everything, thought about acting as if he had no idea what Newt was talking about. Even thought about lying, but then again he knew Newt could read him like a book. Probably in capital letters.  
  
"Around March," he finally answered, eyes focused on a place somewhere over Newt’s right shoulder.  
  
It was quiet for a few moments, and only out of the corner of Thomas’ eye he could see Newt watching him, a subtle look on his face that was - worried, maybe? Torn?  
  
“Tommy -”  
  
Thomas almost winced at the endearment.  
  
“My birthday was in March,” he interrupted the angel before biting his lip to keep himself from saying more, something he might regret, or better, saying _more_ he might regret. Remembering Newt’s absence that day still felt like a huge ball of disappointment and betrayal.  
  
“I know.”  
  
The answer came immediately but quietly, and it was the first time that Newt actually looked away for a long moment. His arms had come up to cross over his chest, though he didn’t look defensive, not in the way Thomas knew people to be. Eventually the angel sighed and sought Thomas’ gaze again.  
  
“I’m sorry, about all this.”  
  
And Thomas knew what for, what Newt’s intentions had been all along. To give him a shot at a normal life, as much as that was possible anyway. Just let him be as much of a normal young man as he could be.  
  
But it wasn’t that easy, never had been, and Thomas thought they both knew that.  
  
“Then you should have just stayed away,” he answered, frustration bubbling and gathering inside him before it finally spilled out of him in a great barrage of feelings. “But you don’t. And then you act all disappointed when my normal relationships don’t last.”  
  
“I’m not -” Newt started sharply but then cut himself off and stayed silent for a few moments instead. He stared at Thomas for such a long time that it started to feel like his gaze burned on his skin, before saying something Thomas thought he’d never get to hear.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“Alright?” he slowly, quietly repeated, suddenly feeling light-headed, his heart beating so fast Thomas felt flushed and hot. Suddenly he wanted to open his mouth and take everything back he’d said, because never in a million years he could imagine Newt staying away. Even if all he could get were a few stolen nights in between, even when it hurt like hell most of the time. Thomas had almost gotten used to that.  
  
Newt let out his breath in something like a sigh and then shrugged slowly.  
  
  
“Yes. Look, I don’t want you to be miserable, I want you to be _safe_. But right now you’re neither safe nor happy, so what am I even staying away for?”  
  
Thomas felt himself blink, mouth falling open, but remained silent as he waited for his brain to catch up with Newt's declaration. When it finally did, his heart traitorously skipped a beat. He couldn't say anything, didn't trust himself to, in case he misunderstood, so he just stood there, staring at Newt with a thousand questions screaming in his head.  
  
The angel tilted his head to the side in that odd little gesture of his, dark eyes on Thomas.  
  
“Is this what you want?” he asked quietly - sincerely.  
  
Yes, Thomas thought before he reconsidered and shrugged helplessly.  
  
He couldn’t say it. Not when there was still a slight possibility that he had gotten it all wrong. Because then his admission would lie right there, out in the open, unprotected, and Thomas knew a rejection would hurt so much more.  
  
“Tommy,” Newt said quietly, and the step he took closer seemed unintentional to Thomas. And there was -  
  
Was he wrong? Was he just imagining this?  
  
But Newt’s eyes were questioning, waiting.  
  
“Is it?”  
  
A small, quietly hysterical noise broke from Thomas’ throat like he couldn’t decide if a laugh wanted to break free or if he was about to cry. After all this time Newt’s question almost seemed unreal.  
But Thomas had to know for sure.  
  
“What do _you_ want?”  
  
Newt only looked at him for a long moment, so long that Thomas’ heart already started to seize painfully in his chest. It was so infuriating sometimes, that unreadable way of his, when Thomas really, _really_ needed to hear something from him and the angel was busy with his own thoughts.  
  
It were those moments when he felt least human to Thomas.  
  
But then he did these other things, like this hesitant little half smile that was forming on his lips now, and he was suddenly nothing but that boy Thomas was in love with again.  
  
“I told you. I want you safe, and I want you happy. And if -” He stopped and sighed, and his whole face suddenly looked very open again. “Of course I want you.”  
  
Thomas knew he was flushed now, breathless and warm over words he had wished to hear for over five years now. Of course he had known, deep down, but Newt had never said anything, not like this, direct and out in the open. Now the words hung in the air between them and suddenly Thomas realised he should probably say something.  
  
“Christ.” He took a deep breath, feeling his fingers tremble with the rhythm of his heart beating wildly in his throat.  
  
A small smile was twitching around the corners of Newt’s lips.  
  
“That’s the only thing you can think of to say?”  
  
Thomas let out a rush of air.  
  
"Five years, Newt. _Five!_ "  
  
“You’re twenty-two, Tommy, that’s not a lot even by your standards."  
  
"Oh, shut up. You don't know what teenage angst feels like," Thomas huffed exasperatedly. He felt overwhelmed, still like he was about to cry or laugh or both or neither, but at the same time relief started to come and crash over him like a wave.  
  
"Someone very sympathetic to your… _angst_ … told me."  
  
Newt was smiling now, small but warm, and Thomas could guess that it had something to do with exactly the fact that he'd only been a teenager when this whole thing between them had started, and he himself knew how fickle teenagers could be. How dramatic.  
  
But Thomas was still convinced that his own baseline for drama differed significantly from that of other people his age, and had even back then.  
  
"Told you what?" Thomas asked quietly, a small smile starting to play around the edges of his lips. It had always been like that between them. A roller-coaster of emotions. Crazy highs, hot and heavy, shifting down to angry discussions and hurtful silence.  
  
“What that’s like,” Newt replied, the smile on his face widening, becoming wry as he took a step closer. “Teenage angst.”  
  
Thomas was fully smiling now, reaching out for Newt’s underarm, letting his fingers trail down until they rested on the angel’s wrist.  
  
“It’s horrible. All of your thoughts focus on that one thing you can’t have and you feel like you’ll never be happy again… and it’s painful, really painful.”  
  
Newt huffed out a breath, the corners of his mouth twitching.  
  
“Shut up, Tommy. All you’re doing now is trying to make me feel guilty.”  
  
“Is it working?” Thomas asked, grinning, and instead of a reply a hand curled into the front of his shirt. He only had a moment to see the glint of amusement in the angel’s dark eyes before he was being pulled closer, irresistibly, and Newt tilted his head down and kissed him.  
  
Thomas’ breath caught as Newt’s lower lip dragged over his own in an alluring slide, coaxing him into opening his mouth.  
  
It was slow and sensual, almost tender, and it made Thomas hum contently while Newt reached up to cup his face in both hands, thumbs brushing over Thomas’ cheekbones.  
  
Thomas had been lost from the moment he’d first laid eyes on this being that people called an angel. He hadn’t known it yet, of course, but now Thomas thought that it had been all but inevitable.  
  
He never knew what went on in Newt’s head, and he never would. He had no idea why the angel had even started this with him, two years after they’d first met, on a night that had started horribly and had ended with a kind of bliss Thomas had never known before, and hadn’t found anywhere else. After that, things between them had shifted and they weren't just friends anymore, but not exactly more than that either. And he had no idea what was going to happen now, or in a month, or in ten years from now.  
  
But Newt -  
  
He never said anything he didn’t mean. And he meant _this_.  
  
Thomas just knew that he was going to hold him to it. There were no excuses anymore, no detours or uncertainties. He was going to hold on to his angel with everything he had.  
  
And Thomas thought they were finally, finally going to be alright.

  


~The End~

**Author's Note:**

> We want to thank both our really awesome beta, [ohmoriatea](http://ohmoriartea.tumblr.com/), and our artist, [artisticallyreadyandenthused](http://artisticallyreadyandenthused.tumblr.com), who were part of our team for this bigbang, for all the work they put into this. :)


End file.
